Spin
by RMSE
Summary: An emotionless boy in simple Central High School. A life of distance and secrecy and loneliness. Can a curse called "Love" change that? A curse of being captured in the strings of such a thing? Who to love, him, her? Is love truly the spawn of hate...?


**DISCLAIMER:** I am married to Edward and own all his little children. He is mine and is totally not Hiromu Arakawa's. [ /sarcasm ]

On a side note, I'm unsure if I am decided on pairings for this little written whim. ._. It may be Ed and Winry, it may be Alphonse and Winry, or, Hell, it made just be Edward and Roy... |3 I suppose we'll find out...

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**S P I N  
****[Chapter One]**

Golden eyes that pierced through anything, yet nothing could pierce through them; they were unreadable, seemingly always empty. They never showed emotion; they felt nothing of happiness, sadness, anger, or being pleased. Not even of love. Eyes that were as blank as when closed, seeing nothing. Eyes that only added to his "scariness"-or so his fellow colleagues claimed him to be. Though it wasn't just those empty orbs that gave him an image of somber. This boy never smiled, or laughed, frowned, or growled. His lips never moved from their still, laxed position. His body never seemed to relax, muscles always tight and tense, shoulders broad. All of this, added with his cold aura, made the very near feeling of him bring coldness. Despite his looks, this so-called angel was very much less than that in personality-or lack there of.

This _Angel_ was a simple high classmen at Central High School, which resided in the middle of the city it was named after; Central. This boy, quiet and to himself, was more than likely the most independent teen within his grade, or even the school; he never much asked for help, or extended it. Always to himself. It was because of this very boy that people around him stopped using those crude blond jokes within the domain of school, since he himself always had his naturally blond locks pulled back into a braided tail that was kept together by his signature red band. And the eyes, his golden, melt-worthy eyes also put forth another addition to his reputation. "The Eyes of a Broken Angel," students in their first and second years of High School had set, a name that was almost too befitting-if anyone knew a love story about the isolated child. The name of the Broken Angel resides from a simple fantasy-like story that was briefly talked about in a History class. It talked about a figure from a legendary tale, an Angel named "Niveus," which was the Latin word for the color "white".

The Angel was named so for his blinding white wings. Others around him, too, had white wings, but none that shined as bright and pure as his, whose wings even stretched the widest, tallest, and pounded down the fastest with the best strength. Despite his title as an Angel, his power was surely of a God's. His tale was of treachery, of twisting love, and of falling for that love-but for the feeling, no. Because of his broken wings. In Niveus' time, he was introduced to a female Angel who was much like himself-to this day, she remains unnamed-though, she had the same power as him; God-like. She was kind and taught Niveus many things-but a little too late did Niveus figure out she was using him for her own gain. Decades had passed that they had spent time together before Niveus knew anything. The once sun-kissed locked woman he had been with now had strands of black, and her once lostly cerulean gaze now had bled red, with the blinding white of her wings slipping off as her arms coiled around Niveus, wings streamed with red as they were broken-shattered. A grin on her lips, with her black wings spread, she hugged Niveus all the way down through the path to Hell, and captured him in their flames. And once Niveus began serving in Hell, his eyes had become so empty, so cold, and so lonely. It would seem as though his very soul was shattered along with his wings. (1) It was seemingly a simple yet complicated love story, and one that girls often fanned over.

Nevertheless, such a story never interested Edward Elric, nor did his _fancy_ nickname. He knew the story, but did nothing other than that; he acted of nothing towards it, as well as towards the students who would believe in such a thing. The boy would rather believe in Icarus. (2)

Other than that, despite the story being twisted with love, no students-even before high school-had ever seen Edward Elric with anyone. Not a girl, not a boy, not even a friend. The boy seemed to choose to have no one around him or attached to him. No one understood why, and Edward seemed quite fine keeping it that way. This isn't to say that no one has ever tried getting close; several girls have tooken an interested, and have asked to be with him several times... The same result, however, always happened: Edward would turn and, without a word, simply walk a way. Not even a "no" appeared worthy. For this, most of the boys couldn't stand him either, the rest of the girls just giving up on the _Angel that dived into hell._

It was needless to say, even when being spoken to directly, Edward Elric would never say a word. He barely answered for teachers or any staff of the school, really. He wasn't much of a speaker, nor was he much of a listener; many had found out the hard way-or, at least, he never appeared to be listening. How would they know? Edward was his own somebody and he didn't seem to need anybody else around. He was good on his own and seemed to live life just fine this way-then again, one couldn't tell if he enjoyed that either, since no one could really tell a thing about the boy.

The time was around 10:30 of a Tuesday morning. The said young eighteen-year-old _Angel_ was currently sitting in his assigned seat in his unprefered literature class. He was reading over an essay from a fellow student that was seated behind him. He wasn't looking it over by choice, by of order of the instructor, Ms. Kallen. Each student had to pass their essays to the person in front of them to be graded. The essay was on the book _Farenheit 451_, a book written quite aways in the past what people then thought life would be like now. Honestly, somewhere in him, this book idly amused the blond, though such an emotion was disreguarded of after that. Ms. Kallen had assigned the essay about two weeks ago, and it was due today. The teacher often did the practice of just letting other students grade one anothers' papers. They were given a grading sheet that was based on certain areas of the essay, such as the flow of the writing, whether the facts made sense and transcended into each other, and of the over all truth of it all. There was several other little requirements in the essay as well.

And because of those several other little requirements needed in the essay was what made the boy sitting behind Edward Elric all the more nervous, grinding his teeth in agony to have such a boy like Edward grade his measly essay paper.

Edward Elric almost made this a given with his personality; he wasn't the type to give mercy on anything. Though he wasn't a bully of Central High School, he still wasn't the type to go around kissing the back of a female's hand and compliment them everyday; he wasn't a gentlemen in any sort of way, but nor was he a bully. Indifferent. He was his own self.

Though, there was one young man, in his second year of high school, that dared to hang around such a person like Edward. His name was Alphonse Heiderich, and he had just began coming to Central High School at the beginning of this year, which was now just merely two months ago. He was three years younger than Edward, but the two were well matched in height, and his hair seemed to have the brightest blond hair compared to Edward's; it was like Elric's was a golden type, and his was kissed by the ray's of the Sun; and to match, the boy was born with glimmering blue eyes to complete his almost flawless features. Even his personality was something to be desired; calm, kind, and many female's had even put it as "adorable". He was a true gentlemen.

And he was the complete and utter opposite of Edward.

On the essay, Edward swiftly, though neatly, wrote numbers in the open boxes for the grading scale of the piece of paper. It was on a scale of one through ten, ten being the most literate and well-written for that area. However, Edward's given numbers didn't reach above four. On the other hand, the person sitting in front of Edward, who had received Edward's essay, couldn't dare write any marks below ten; let alone that, Edward deserved none lower. Just as the usual went.

The blond was a straight A student. In fact, he didn't have any marks below the pluses. He had been like this throughout his whole high school career, and it made many people envious and bitter.

Edward stood, setting down his pencil. He snatched up the essay and the grade sheet, putting the sheet over the written literature and bringing it up to the teacher's desk in silence.

"Finished already?" Ms. Kallen asked without much surprise. She'd have to look over the paper Edward had received and at least give the student who was poorly selected by Edward to grade his paper at least a little mercy; Edward seem to grade worse than a Harvard professor, really, and it almost worried Ms. Kallen. She was just grateful none of her paperwork ever went to the closed child. She watched as the boy unspeakingly entered in the work he graded, setting it in the turn-in bin on her desk. She frowned, sighing, watching him off.

Without a word, Edward turned and headed back to his seat, easily sliding right back into it. After he was adjusted, he overlapped his arms upon his desk, his golden gaze peering out the window next to him. His classroom was located on the second floor, making quite a nice view to look down onto the large school yard. With uninterest, he watched as a man mowed the school grass. Edward brought his right hand up and rested his chin in his palm, giving out a soundless breath as he then turned his attention to the smeared, discolored white clouds in the sky.

This class hour didn't have much more to it; it ended around 10:50, and the clock was striking onto the 45 mark. Edward glanced at the clock before peering down at his desk, idly staring at his simple red and black pencil; it wasn't a student's usual choice of a pencil. It was more extravagant and obviously cost more than the generic child's. Not much thought of that ran through Edward's mind, though; to him, it was a simple pencil. ... He was so bored.

Eventually, thankfully, the class let out, the bell yowling through the halls. Students, with smiles, took their time leaving Ms. Kallen's class. Edward once again stood and grabbed his black messenger bag, slipping the strap over his right shoulder. Tucking his hands in the pockets of his school uniform pants, he then turned and exited the class, entering the sea of students that swam about the large hallway. Without much thought nor care for the people around him, he began to swiftly make his way to his locker, which happened to be on the other end of the school, and downstairs. He pivoted to his right, entering the hallway for the stair case, and trotted down them, soon turning left to trot down the second half and then exited the clustered hallway, just to enter a new one. He turned to his right and once again begun on his path back to his locker.

Suddenly, a voice called to the blond. "Oi! Oi!"

Edward's eyes stayed forward, as if the voice hadn't reached him amongst the many shouts of the other student bodies.

"Oi, Edward! Hang on! Hold up a second!"

He kept going, not caring to stop; he had, indeed, heard him but the effort to stop was just uncared for at the moment.

"Edward!" Alphonse Heiderich called as he made it to the boy's side, a wide smile on his face. "H-Hey!" he huffed, "How did literature class go?"

Edward, as per usual, said nothing to the younger classmen, continuing on his silent way. At last, he reached his royal blue-colored lockers and threw in a few numbers to the combination lock that was clicked around the handle of his locker. He opened the lock and lifted it away from the handle and pulled up on the lever, pulling open the contraption of school property. He ignored the younger one's question, simply unhooking the lock on his messenger bag and pulling out his literature and history book, setting them on the top shelf within his locker. His first and third class before his fourth and before lunch didn't require books; so it made it easier to do the transfer.

He closed up his bag and set it down on the locker's floor to rest. With the tip of his boot, he slightly shoved the bag beneath his locker.

Underneath everyone's locker there was a decent amount of space to set their bags or even coats, ensuring that they trusted fellow students not to take "peeks" into their belongings. However, Edward kept nothing personal in his school containers, so this worry was not for him. Taking a step back, he closed his locker and turned to head towards the cafeteria, it now being lunch time.

"I heard you guys had an essay due today! Must've been pretty hard. ... Then again, to me, all senior work seems hard!" Alphonse laughed a little, more so to himself. He kept in-toe with the high classmen's strides. "You probably aced it, though, knowing you. Right? I heard you have a chemistry test after lunch, too! I bet you're not nervous about that, huh?" Alphonse kept pressing for conversation, smiling nonetheless when he didn't receive a reply. He hadn't expected one.

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets as he entered the lunch line, still remaining mute. He was staring forward in boredom, not even looking like he was paying any mind to the bright blond behind him, let alone to anyone or anything else around him.

Alphonse brushed his fingers through his own hair. "Well, I have an algebra test next hour... Teachers just love giving tests on Tuesdays, huh? I hope I do good on it. I think I did pretty decent when I was studying..." He laughed again, rubbing the back of his head, "Then again, I didn't have much help! Parents couldn't understand a thing! I tried to go off a few packets, but, eh... You know?" Alphonse smiled again, letting his hand settle at his side, "I mean, why do we need to remember so many formulas at once? Shoot, I don't mind learning them, but all at _once?_ There's got to be at least twenty formulas! Or, at least, that's what it feels like, anyways." He crossed his arms, staring at his shoes with a furrowed brow. "But even without the formulas, I don't think I'll be any good at math. I like science, though, ironically." He handed out his smile to the elder boy once again.

"Science, too, requires formulas," Edward suddenly stated, laconically, back to Alphonse, his expression unknown. Though he spoke, a mere moment later it felt as though he hadn't said anything at all.

Alphonse blinked. He-spoke? He blinked again, his smile having dropped from his face from the surprise of the boy's speech. But soon enough, the smile lifted the corners of his lips again. "... Yeah." He was happy he received any sort of response out of him, even if it was just the one he got. "Yeah, I know... But..." He frowned again, thinking of the subject at hand. It felt good to know that Edward Elric was actually listening to his silly rambles. He smiled. _This just means he's good at acting like he's not paying attention to a thing... Suppose it's a good talent. Maybe an annoying one, to some..._ "For some reason, I can just remember and deal with scientific formulas better than I can math formulas. I mean, yeah, I realize some scientific formulas _are_ math formulas, but... Like, for some reason, I just like the scientific ones better." He laughed nervously again, once more scrubbing at the back of his short, almost white, strands. "Yeah, I know that sounds stupid... I know you need math for science and pretty much vice versa... I can't really explain." He gave a shifted smile, rubbing his index beneath his nose as he stared at his own shoes.

"... Everyone has their preferences," Edward just simply stated, speaking nothing more.

Alphonse, once again, blinked, taken aback once more by Edward's very voice of a reply. His smile widened. "... Yeah... Right..." A light blush crossed the young boy's face, happiness inside him. He wondered if Edward had ever spoken to any other students; they may have been short, untied replies, but they were still spoken nonetheless-and to him. "... But, besides talking about classes... Have you heard about the new transfer student from Resembool High School?"

Edward said nothing, but his eyes slid to their corners.

Alphonse peered at him a moment, trying to see if he could decipher-through the Senior's back-if he was listening or not. He went on anyways, "I heard she's in a high class of IQ, like you. A few students seen her in the office, but she doesn't officially start coming here until tomorrow." The line moved forward. Edward moved forward. Alphonse followed. "I heard she's really nice, too. Very mannerly. I kind of can't wait to meet her, you know? I mean, I don't actually know anything about her, but meeting new people is always nice! Don't you think so?" He laughed a moment before settling into a smile. He already figured Edward wouldn't bother with a response to this. "Besides, I'm new, too. So I figured maybe we could figure stuff out together, anyway. That, and she's in her third year of high school! So she's between us!" A light chuckle escaped his cheery lips.

Edward still remained silent, eyes sliding back forward, almost disinterested in the topic. More people? Not his gamble. Not worth his care.

"Alphonse! Al!" a student suddenly called from a nearby table, waving a hand at the said blond. "Come here a minute, wouldja?"

Alphonse glanced at the table, then turned to them, smiling, waving back to acknowledge their offer. He looked to Edward. "I'm gonna go, alright? I'll talk to-" he paused, thinking about the word _to_. It wasn't right. "... I'll talk _with_ you later, kay?" He then turned without another word and headed off, waving back at the muted blond.

Edward still gave the younger boy no reply, not even bothering to watch the boy off. He simply closed his eyes and huffed a silent breath. He opened his eyes a slit to stare down at his black boots. His lips pressed together.

Though a new student wasn't his typical interest, the way Alphonse spoke of her made it seem as though she had struck his interest. Maybe she was worth taking a look into? She didn't sound like a total barbaric monkey like the rest of the body in Central High.

_A new student... From Risembool..._ he thought idly, closing his eyes once more. "... Hm ..."

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1) Made it up. c: There's no such person as Niveus... ... I think. ._.  
2) This is true. "Icarus" is a man who made wings of wax and flew tpo close to the sun, wings melting and burning away and he fell.

I wrote this story a while ago (back in mid-2009). I've recently rewrote it, however, so hopefully it's better. :)) Review, please! o3o

Thanks for reading! n_n

[ I'm unsure how fast the second chapter will come. ... Or if it ever will... ._. I'm bad at that. And yet I'm bad at one-shots, too... -3- I have no happy medium. ]


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